


Hurt

by SherriesMyCherryPie



Category: Supernatural
Genre: A Hunt Gone Wrong, A little bit of Smut that is, Crossroads Deals & Demons, Dean gets hurt, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Graphic Description, Impala Sex, Major character death - Freeform, Reader comes to the rescue, Reader-Insert, Reader-Interactive, Shapeshifters - Freeform, Smut, graphic description of death, possible triggers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-13
Updated: 2015-10-13
Packaged: 2018-04-26 02:52:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,970
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4987324
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SherriesMyCherryPie/pseuds/SherriesMyCherryPie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"If I could start again, a million miles away, I would keep myself, I would find a way..."</p><p>A  hunt gone wrong leaves you with an important choice to make. And you want to make a deal...</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Just to disclaim: I do not own Supernatural (sadly), and the song used in the title of this work and for inspirational purposes is "Hurt", and that belongs to Johnny Cash.  
> Enjoy, and please don't forget to kudos/comment, feedback is very much appreciated!

**Breaux Bridge, Louisiana - One Year Ago**

You woke from your slumber at around 7am; it was just starting to get light outside, and the crisp November air that snaked its way through the thin glass panes of the cheap Motel room window brought a chill to your spine. 

It was the same routine - you'd wake up to find that Sam was already up, seated at the table with a fresh hot cup of coffee, his eyes glued to his laptop. He would be scouring the local tabloids for any sign of a new case, or researching on an existing one. Dean would already be out getting breakfast (most likely burritos), that he would bring back for you all, as hunter working days always started early and always ended late.

It was a day like no other. Just another day at the office. Or so you thought.

"Morning, (Y/N)," Sam chirped at you, as you swung your legs out of the bed, sitting on the edge. _How was he always so damn bright-eyed and bushy-tailed?_

"Morning Sam," you grumbled in reply, making a beeline for the coffee maker. You poured yourself a cup, blowing at it gently so that it would be cool enough for you to gulp down. You looked over at Sam and frowned. "Did you not even go to bed last night?"

Sam chuckled. "Er, no, actually. I started researching this case I found, so."

You shook your head in disbelief. "How the Hell do you even function," you grinned, taking a sip of your coffee. "So, what did you find?"

"Well, I found some signs in this town before we came here," Sam started, scrolling down a page on his laptop. "Three vics, all men, in their twenties, brutally murdered. But the murderer always left something behind. A big steaming pile of skin and nails." He crinkled his nose a little in disgust.

You nodded, processing the information. "I'd say there's a shapeshifting son of a bitch in town, wouldn't you?"

Sam nodded in agreement. "Sounds like one lurking somewhere. Suppose we should check it out."

Your conversation was cut short by Dean making an entrance with a couple of grease-spotted paper bags. "Mornin'," he greeted you both, setting the breakfast down on the table and removing his jacket.

"Morning Dean," you greeted back as your heart practically leapt; you were definitely a lot cheerier now. With the aid of a bit of caffeine and the sight of the elder Winchester, you felt a lot more ready for the day. 

Since you met the Winchesters two years ago and started hunting with them, you'd always harboured the hugest crush on Dean. With his cocky sense of humour, love of classic cars and classic rock, and the fact that he was always partial to a slice of pie, you'd fallen head over heels for him. However, as much as you enjoyed being a hunter, there were some things you just couldn't have - and romance was one of them.

You'd just made do with being friends with the Winchesters. It had taken you a while to earn their trust, but two years later, they had finally accepted you as one of their own, even Bobby.

Snapping back to reality, you thanked Dean for your breakfast and wolfed it down heartily, chatting about the case with the guys. 

"Okay, I'm just gonna have a quick shower and get ready, then we can head out," you spoke, rising from your seat at the table. The boys nodded in response.

"See you in ten."

* * *

 

The sound of the familiar thrumming of the Impala's engine filled your ears as you sped down the country roads to the outskirts of town, Dean behind the wheel, Sammy riding shotgun, and you in the back seat. You were unable to relax, pumped and poised, ready for the hunt.

After some further research, Sam had gotten a lead on where the shifter was; in an old, grotty abandoned warehouse on the border of Breaux Bridge, Louisiana. Your plan was to burst through the front door with Sam, taking it by surprise. Dean would go around the back, hopefully getting the jump on the motherfucker.

As the dark warehouse neared more clearly into your view, Dean flipped off the Impala's headlights so that you wouldn't be seen. He cut the engine so that you weren't too close, but you could see the derelict building in the distance.

You hopped out the car stealthily, adrenaline pumping through your veins, before rooting through the trunk of the car with Sam, gathering weapons. Dean joined you and picked out his gun complete with silver bullets and a silver blade, gripping them tightly.

Your gaze met his for a few seconds, that look of determination that made your heart throb, crystal clear in his darkened, jade-coloured eyes.

"Okay, everyone familiar with the plan?" Sam murmured, breaking your trance.

You nodded. "Yep. Now let's do this."

You headed towards the warehouse with the guys, your heart thumping against your rib cage like it did before every hunter-monster confrontation. It got bigger as you got closer, and before you knew it, you and Sam were by the front door, ready to burst in. Dean had disappeared from your view, having gone round the back. You prayed that everything would go smoothly.

You looked over at Sam, who nodded at you. He mouthed, "3... 2... 1..."

You both kicked at the old wooden double doors, causing them to smash open, revealing a scene of almost eight shifters, all maiming twenty-something year old men, startled by your entrance. Everything was a blur as you ran in, Sam practically galloping by your side, guns cocked and ready to fire...

"Sam, there's more than one," you gasped, stunned to find not just one shifter but what appeared to be a nest of them.

Sam didn't answer, but took one down with a shot to the head, his experience serving him well in battle, before moving onto the next. You swung your silver knife at another, missing as it dodged your attacks, but that didn't stop you trying. You continued your fight, eventually taking the bastard down as you plunged your blade into its heart. 

You paused for a moment to catch your breath, watching the shifter hit the floor with a thud. You shrieked as you felt a sharp pain commence in your side, and next thing, you were across the other side of the warehouse, clutching at your left shoulder in agony. Tears stung at your eyes and an unfamiliar silhouette loomed over you, grabbing you by the throat roughly.

Your knife had left your hand at some point in the intervention, thrown across the floor somewhere unknown. You grabbed at the cold hands wrapped around your throat, feeling light-headed as your oxygen supply started to run out and the light of the room started to dim... You tried to kick out your legs, but you just struggled tirelessly, your muscles weak and fatigued from the lack of air...

And then you were back again, in a crumpled heap on the floor, however able to breathe freely once more. You gasped for air and rubbed your throat tenderly, hoping it wasn't too crushed, trying to ignore the searing pain in your shoulder. You looked up and Dean appeared in your line of vision, standing before a corpse, more than likely the one that had attacked you.

"(Y/N) are you okay?" he asked, worry drenched in his deep, gravelly voice. He crouched down to your level, his hands resting on your knees, trying to see if you were alright.

You nodded weakly, feeling more than a little wiped out, but you were relentless. You grasped Dean's hand and allowed him to help you up. You swayed a little, but Dean helped you regain your balance by holding you at the waist until you could think more clearly. 

"Dean, go..." you breathed. "You need to help Sam."

Dean looked into your eyes a final time, concern dancing wildly in his irises, and then he was gone. You took a moment to compose yourself, shoving all thoughts of how much pain you were in to the back of your mind, before scanning the room for your knife. You spotted it within seconds and made your way to it fast, spinning on your heel to view the scene before you; Sam and Dean still fighting, the sound of gunshots ringing through the air.

You scooped up your knife before sprinting over to Sam and Dean to help them out as much as you could, dodging rogue bullets, and generally trying not to get yourself killed. Those suckers were fucking strong,  _and_ fast. Trying to take down one was enough, never mind eight.

You unbuckled your gun laced with silver bullets from the holster on your calf under your jeans - you had almost forgotten that you had a gun too. You aimed and shot at the bastards, trying to help the boys. There were just two left now...

Eventually, there were none. You regrouped with Sam and Dean, the pair of them panting wildly, sweat beaded on their foreheads. You rested your able hand on your injured shoulder in pain as you came down from your adrenaline high, remembering the pain. You were pretty sure it was dislocated, but it would have to wait.

"Well, I wasn't expecting that," you spoke quietly, looking around at all the corpses. "Since when do they work in packs?"

Sam shrugged, wiping a spot of blood off his chin. "I have no idea. At least, they're gone now."

You nodded in agreement, wincing as you attempted to move your arm.

"Are you okay (Y/N)?" Dean rasped, limping slightly towards you.

"Yeah, I think my shoulder's dislocated, but it's fine. We can sort it out back at the motel," you insisted. Luckily Sam and Dean had plenty of experience in resetting bones and patching up bullet wounds, seeing as though countless trips to the hospital was both too suspicious and expensive.

"Sammy, get (Y/N) back to the car. I got this," he motioned to the bodies strewn across the floor, and commenced cleaning his knife with a handkerchief.

"You sure?"

Dean nodded in reply to Sam. "Go."

Sam nodded in return, walking back to the car with you. The short walk was silent, the pair of you exhausted. You were only about twenty strides away from the warehouse, when you heard something you'd never heard before.

"SAM!"

_Dean._

A yell. Almost a scream. Desperation. Panic.

"DEAN!" you screamed back with Sam in unison, both of you whipping round abruptly and sprinting back towards the warehouse. It felt like you were running for an eternity, your surroundings a blur, time moving so slow you thought it would stop...

Sam reached the entrance before you did, pausing at the doorway, the expression on his face marred with horror, before yelling Dean's name and disappearing into the building. A gunshot fired, its echo ricocheting into the distance.

_No no no._

You willed your legs to carry you faster. You finally reached the doorway, a sob tearing its way through your throat at the display before you.

Dean, in a bloody heap on the floor. A dead corpse sprawled out nearby, holding a knife.

"DEAN!" you screeched, leaping over to where he lay. Sam was crouched down next to his brother, his face crumpled, already dialling 911.

You didn't know if he was unconscious. But you were no naive little hunter. He was laying in his own blood, a lot of it. There was a deep wound in his chest, open and gaping, pouring with fresh blood.

You used your free arm to shake Dean, trying to encourage him to open his eyes. "Dean, please, no..." you bawled.

_"Please, I need an ambulance. We're in an old warehouse outside of Breaux Bridge, my brother, he's been stabbed... Please, you need to send somebody right away..."_

* * *

An hour later, you sat rigidly at the hospital, zoned out completely. You were riddled with feelings of guilt now Dean was laying in a bed next to you, fighting for his life. He'd already been resuscitated by a team of doctors and nurses three times. They had told you that they didn't know how long he would have left, but their tone of voice drenched in sympathy only gave it away; it wouldn't be long.

_If only you'd not gotten hurt in the first place... Then Sam wouldn't have had to walk you back to the car... If only you were a better hunter, maybe you could've saved him, maybe you could've spotted the shifter that you hadn't killed... If only you were faster, you could've gotten to him sooner..._

You continued to mentally torture yourself over and over as you watched Dean's chest rise and fall as he breathed, not knowing if it would be the last time you would see it. You never got to take him to the beach like you'd promised, as he'd never been. You never got to surprise him with the cherry pie you'd brought for him yesterday. You never got to have the Star Wars marathon you both always fantasised about. You never got to tell him how you felt about him...

Tears streamed down your cheeks as you took his hand, lacing his rough, calloused fingers with your own.  _Oh Dean..._

Your thoughts were interrupted by the arrival of Bobby and Rufus. Neither of you had anyone else. Sam talked with Bobby and Rufus in hushed tones, but it was all a blur to you. Nothing made sense anymore. And nothing would, ever again.

Nothing would make sense without Dean. A world with no air. And Dean Winchester was going to die, in a freak accident involving a stupid shapeshifter. Dean,  _your Dean,_ was clinging onto a thread for dear life. But it was no good. Dean was dying. Minute by minute, he was closer.

Dean didn't deserve to be laying in that bed when you were perfectly alright, bar a stupid shoulder injury. You needed him. So did Sam. He couldn't leave you both behind, not this way, not like this.

You knew what you had to do.

You'd made your decision.

* * *

Not too long later, you were speeding along the highway in a hotwired car you'd stolen from the hospital parking lot, one of your fake FBI badges on the dashboard. Your mind was unclear, but you knew exactly where you were going. You knew exactly what you were doing.

You braked harshly, the car skidding to a halt, just before a crossroads. You got out, clutching your badge tightly before crouching down in the middle of the junction. You dug into the ground with your nails until you struck gold- well, tin. A tin box filled with the necessary items to summon a crossroads demon.

It wasn't something you would have ever even considered doing; making deals with devils. But desperate times called for desperate measures. You would have given anything, including your soul, to make sure that Dean was okay.

You slipped your badge into the tin box and buried it back under the gravel, before standing up straight and scanning the area for the demon.

"Come on you son of a bitch," you growled through gritted teeth, hoping that it would show up. Time was being wasted. Precious time.

"Patience is a virtue, sweetheart."

You heard the gruff voice, saturated with a British accent, and you spun round to face a forty-something man dressed in a sharp black suit.

"The name's Crowley, King of the Crossroads," he introduced himself with a smile. "I was going to send somebody else, but... When I saw that it was you, (Y/N.) Well I just knew that I had to negotiate with you myself. It's an honour." 

Flattery laced his words, and you eyed him suspiciously. Demons were never nice. Nevertheless, he continued with his monologue.

"You see, you're probably the biggest threat to me and my kind. You and the Winchesters," he started, walking around you slowly. "The best hunters around, I believe. I just had to meet you myself. However, you must be pretty desperate if you're here, summoning me."

You swallowed the lump that was rising in your throat. "I want to make a deal," you said simply, your eyes not leaving his.

Crowley raised his eyebrows, his interest clearly piqued. "And what can I possibly do for you?" he asked, eyeing you slyly.

"Dean. He's in hospital. He's dying," you replied, your eyes brimming with fresh tears. But you never let your strong facade slip. "I need you to save him."

"Interesting. Even if that means selling your soul?" he mocked.

"Even if that means selling my soul," you confirmed in an almost growl.

Crowley inhaled slowly, releasing his breath in a fast huff. "Well well well..." he started. This dick liked the sound of his own voice way too much.

"Can you help or not?" you pressed, your temper flaring slightly.

"Like I said, patience is a virtue," he replied coolly. He raised an eyebrow and smirked at you. "Give me one good reason why I should save Dean Winchester."

"Please, because..." You were starting to get desperate for real now. Time was running out.

"Because?" 

"Because..." you sighed in defeat, succumbing to Crowley's inquisition. "Because I love him. I can't live without him. Sam needs him. And so do I. Please," you pleaded, staring right into the demon's eyes.

Crowley pinched the bridge of his nose in exasperation, before rolling his eyes.

"Okay. I'll tell you what," he spoke, taking a step closer to you. "I'll help Dean. I'll make sure all is well and that he lives. But I will require your word," he bargained further.

"Yes, you have my word," you insisted hurriedly. "Save Dean and you get my soul in ten years, I know how it works-"

Crowley shook his head. "No, sorry sweetheart, I think you've got the wrong end of the stick. My deal, my terms you see," he smirked.

Your eyebrows knitted together in confusion at what more Crowley could possibly want.

"I save Dean Winchester... You get  _one year."_

"One year?" you asked, your voice barely a whisper. Just one year to enjoy being with Dean and Sam before you got dragged away by hellhounds?

"One year," Crowley confirmed. "It's a fair trade! And it's a good deal. What can I say, I'm a Hell of a guy. A year is a long time," he grinned, attempting to persuade you. "Better start writing that bucket list." He winked, making your stomach churn.

Your gut instinct told you _no, this is wrong, this isn't a fair trade at all._ But your mind was beyond desperate at the thought of Dean, silently slipping away in that hospital bed, leaving you all behind.

"Okay, deal..." you whispered, your fingers trembling. 

"Great!" Crowley clapped his hands before rubbing them together. "Now. To seal the deal... I'm sure you're familiar with the goings-on of that?"

You nodded curtly, before reluctantly closing the distance between you and the demon. You tried not to hurl as your lips joined with his, and he cupped your cheek with his hand, drawing you closer to him, his other arm snaking round your waist. You had never felt so dirty in your whole life.

After what seemed like a lifetime, he finally broke away from you. The deal was sealed. You'd gotten your wish.

"And there you have it," Crowley spoke, a shit-eating grin playing on his lips. "I'll see you in a year, gorgeous."

He winked, and with that, he was gone, disappeared into thin air with a click of his fingers.

You collapsed to the ground, your legs unable to hold you up any longer, and you sobbed uncontrollably into your hands. 

One year. That was it.

You had one year left with Sam and Dean Winchester.

* * *

You felt numb as you drove back to the hospital. You were unsure if you'd done the right thing. Well, of course you had - Dean would survive, and he would be able to live his life, he would have Sam. But he wouldn't have you. Well, only for a year.

You weren't even positive that Dean felt the same way about you, romantically speaking, as you did him. But that didn't matter. As long as he was alive. That was all that mattered. Even if it was selfish of you to sacrifice your life for his, for him to have to live without you, as long as it meant that you didn't have to live without him. 

You left the car in the parking lot in a daze, your mind on auto-pilot as you wandered through the hospital to where Dean was. You paused for a moment outside the door, attempting to compose yourself. You'd just told Sam that you were popping out for a walk for some fresh air. You wiped the tears from your face and rubbed at your eyes, getting rid of any moisture, before finally entering the room.

It was like seeing the sun for the first time as Dean was sat up in the bed, fully awake and alert, beaming at you.

You wanted to cry again at the mere sight. But you held the tears back, willing yourself to convert the little energy you had into happiness.

You ran up to Dean and embraced him tightly, his strong arms pulling you close to him.

"Dean, you're alright," you shrieked in glee, probably almost deafening the poor guy, burying your face in the crook of his neck.

"Yeah, I feel great," he replied, his voice a little thicker than usual. "Sammy told me what happened. But I feel fine." His forehead creased a little in temporary confusion.

You turned to Sam, still smiling, but Sam wasn't smiling back at you. He made a quick motion with his head to the door, his jaw clenched, while Dean busied himself talking to Bobby.  _Uh oh._

"I'll be back in a minute," you told Dean, rubbing his shoulder affectionately, before turning on your heel to leave the room, Sam following you in hot pursuit.

You took a deep breath once you were outside, and rubbed at your temples. If you knew Sam, you were about to receive a terrible headache.

Sam closed the door behind him, rounding in on you at once. "(Y/N)... What did you do?" he asked, his nostrils flaring with irritation.

"What do you mean?" you asked in a slightly choked voice. "I just went out for a walk," you lied, trying to maintain eye contact with Sam.

"Don't lie to me," he spoke through gritted teeth. "What did you do."

You sighed and looked away in shame. "Something useful, for a change." You looked back at him with defiance, standing by your decision to sell your soul for Dean.

"What's that supposed to mean?" he asked, his eyebrows knitted together with worry. His expression softened with realisation as the penny finally dropped. "You made a deal, didn't you?" he murmured sadly.

"I did what I had to do, Sam," you defended yourself. "I couldn't just let him die." You felt your lower lip start to tremble, and your eyes start to sting with tears. "I couldn't let him go, Sam. I can't. I love him." 

You had finally said it out loud. Sam sighed, just looking at you with remorseful eyes as he figured out what to say. He wasn't sure if Dean felt the same way, but then again, he'd have done the same for his brother. He knew how much you must've cared about him to sell your soul for him.

"But in ten years (Y/N), we'll have to live without you," Sam said softly, not trying to make you feel bad but trying to help you see sense.

You gulped in response. "Well, not exactly..." you trailed off, wringing your hands nervously.

"What do you mean? That's how crossroad deals work," Sam defied you, searching your face for some kind of answer.

"This demon... He knows us. He agreed to make the deal, but on his own terms..." you started shakily. 

Sam raised his eyebrows and his eyes widened. "And?"

"He gave me a year."

Shock distorted Sam's features, his mouth falling open slightly, truly dumbfounded. "A year?" he exclaimed, a little too loudly.

"Yes."

You gazed into each other's eyes for a few seconds, before he pulled you into a giant bear hug, and you sobbed into his chest.

"Don't worry, (Y/N)," he soothed, stroking your hair gently. "We're gonna find a way to get you out of this."

"No!" you squealed, looking up at Sam. "Please, you can't tell Dean. Or Bobby. Please. Let's just keep this between us. Whether we find a way to trump the deal or not... I want to enjoy my last year. And I want Dean to enjoy it too." 

Sam sighed, torn between what he felt he should do, but he eventually nodded. "Okay. Whatever you say. But you do realise, that Dean will find out sooner or later."

"Then let's make sure it's later."


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just to disclaim: I do not own Supernatural (sadly), and the song used in the title of this work and for inspirational purposes is "Hurt", and that belongs to Johnny Cash.  
> Enjoy, and please don't forget to kudos/comment, feedback is very much appreciated!  
> 

**Sioux Falls, South Dakota - Present Day**

You sat at Bobby's kitchen table comfortably, a glass of whiskey in hand, watching the drunken shenanigans unfold around you. What a way to spend your last night on Earth, but with Dean, Sam, Bobby, Rufus, Ellen and Jo, boozing and having a few laughs, playing a few games of poker, just enjoying a rare night off away from everything.

Of course, the hellhounds would be here for you any day now.

Sam had tried to find a way out for you -he'd  _really_ tried- but no crossroads demon would deal. The deal that you already held with Crowley was under optimum protection. And that British bastard had made sure that there were no loopholes in the contract that would save you.

You tried not to think about it. You just wanted to enjoy the remaining time you had left, the sand slowly slipping through the timer. At least... It'd been worth it. Saving Dean had been one hundred percent worth your soul.

Watching him now, grinning and laughing that laugh of his, taking shots of absinthe without a care in the world, made it all so worth it.

You'd gotten to give him that cherry pie you saved for him in the motel fridge. You'd finally gotten round to having your Star Wars marathon round at Bobby's, you nestled between the two Winchesters on his squashy sofa. But no matter how hard you tried, you never did get round to telling Dean how you really felt about him. Just being around him was enough for you.

Could you have really brought yourself to tell him the truth? To tell him how in love you were with him, for him to maybe,  _just maybe,_ tell you that he felt the same? For you to be just _snatched_ from him by the hellhounds, leaving him in a worse state than you were, at the thought of you selling your soul to redeem _his_ life?

It'd all gotten way too complicated. And of course, Sam didn't help. His constant nagging;  _"(Y/N), you need to tell him... He has a right to know..."_ You knew that Sam was right, but how could you justify spoiling Dean's happiness,  _ruining his life,_ at the guilty conscience of that fact that the only reason he was alive, was because of  _you?_

No. It didn't have to be that way. And so it wasn't.

You watched Dean deal some cards for himself, Bobby, Rufus, Ellen and Jo in the library area, ready to start a new game of poker. Your heart skipped a beat as he looked up at you, forest green eyes twinkling. "You playin', (Y/N)?" he asked, a smile playing on his lips.

You returned the smile heartily, before shaking your head. "I'll play the next one," you told him. For now, you just wanted to sit and watch him, sipping at your whiskey, unable to think about anything apart from the fact that this was the last time you'd ever see that gorgeous smile, those beautiful eyes.

Your reverie was interrupted by Sam, pulling up a chair next to you at the table. You turned to face him, your eyes meeting his steely glare. He was pretty pissed that you'd never told Dean about your deal, or about how you felt. He sighed deeply, his expression softening, and took your hand in his.

"You need to tell him, (Y/N)," he reasoned, sadness in his eyes. "Otherwise, what else have you accomplished this past year?"

"No," you replied, shaking your head at Sam, your eyebrows knitted together. "Look how happy he is. That's what I've accomplished this past year. He got to live, because of me. And I stand by what I did."

Sam pinched the bridge of his nose in an exasperated manner, his eyes squeezed shut. "Please, understand what I'm trying to say here," he pressed. "How do you think Dean's gonna feel when the hellhounds come for you, rip you to shreds, only to find out that I knew all along? Do you really think that Dean is gonna be happy then? He's gonna be so pissed. At least if you tell him now, then he'll know. Yeah he'll still be pissed, but... It's your last night. It's your last chance to tell him how you  _really_ feel. You can't be serious when you say that you don't want him to know."

Sam's eyes searched your own, pleading, looking for any sign of life.

"(Y/N), please," he insisted. "You've got to tell him how you feel about him."

"Tell who?"

You almost jumped out of your skin, your back pressed against the wall next to the table in shock, your eyes as wide as dinner plates. Dean stood in front of you, an eyebrow raised questioningly, his gaze switching from you to Sam.

"Dean, you scared me..." you breathed, your heart rate so elevated you thought it was going to jump out your throat.

"What's goin' on?" he asked with narrowed eyes, his expression sincere. 

You looked at Sam, your face crumpled in pain, before shaking your head. 

"(Y/N), please," Sam implored, his face etched with desperation. 

"What's goin' on? Why are you two actin' so weird?" Dean pressed, looking at the both of you incredulously. By now the room was silent, Bobby, Rufus, Ellen and Jo still and quiet as they watched your conversation through open doors of the library, also wondering what was going on.

"Dean..." you started, looking into his darkened green eyes as he searched your (Y/E/C) ones. "There's something that I need to tell you."

You felt your eyes start to sting, and the familiar lump begin to rise in your throat. You knew that Sam was right, but now it would change everything. Dean knowing the truth would change everything. But how else could you escape? Run away until the hellhounds came? The Winchesters would find you with ease. Maybe not before it was too late, but then, Dean would know. And he would never forgive Sam.

Dean immediately sensed that something was wrong as your teardrops began to fall. "What happened?" he asked, unsure of what was going on.

"A year ago..." you started anxiously, unable to look at him anymore. "A year ago, you had your hunting accident... With the shifter..." You watched Dean nod aggressively out of your peripheral vision, but he let you continue. You looked back up at him with a wounded expression, your gut in knots as you were forced to remember everything that happened that night. "You were dying, Dean. There was nothing that the doctors could do to save you."

You were shaking by this point, silent sobs hiccuping through your throat. "I couldn't bare to let you go. I'm sorry."

Dean stood silently, just watching you. "What did you do?" he asked in a quiet, timid voice.

It took you all your energy to summon up the courage to tell Dean what you had done. "I made a deal," you finally admitted. "But... The demon wouldn't give me ten years. He only gave me a year... So... Now... I'd say my time's almost up."

You looked across at Sam and gave him a weak smile, which he reciprocated solemnly. 

"What?" Dean growled in disbelief, looking down at Sam. "You knew? YOU KNEW? AND YOU DIDN'T TELL ME? YOU DIDN'T FIND A WAY TO HELP HER?" he roared, launching himself at Sam.

"Dean, stop!" you squealed, jumping in front of him to protect Sam. "Dean it's not his fault!" you insisted, trying to push at his chest. Luckily Bobby and Rufus came to your rescue, pulling Dean away and restraining him a little so that he couldn't do anything he was sure to regret.

"Why? Why did you do that, (Y/N)?" Dean asked, his own eyes glazed over with tears. "Why would you do that for me? Why would you be so stupid?"

You inhaled a deep breath and shrugged. "Because... Because I love you," you whispered truthfully.

Time almost stood still, everyone frozen into place. 

Sam breathed a sigh of relief. Everything was out in the open now. Bobby and Rufus let go of Dean, their arms hanging by the sides, unsure of what to do or say. Dean... Dean just stood in front of you, his face etched with pain. But he didn't say anything. 

You couldn't take it any more. 

You made a swift exit, making a beeline for the front door. You needed some fresh air or something; you needed to clear your mind. Now Dean knew. And he'd had nothing to say. That was all there was to it.

You rubbed at your cold arms as you inhaled the sharp, wintry air, allowing your lungs to be filled completely. You couldn't hear any shouting or anything coming from the house, encouraging you to idly wonder what was going on now. 

You heard the opening and closing of the front door, but you didn't know who it was.

"You'll freeze out here," sounded the low, rough voice of Dean Winchester.

You turned round slowly to face the elder Winchester, your expression forlorn. You didn't reply. This wasn't how you imagined your last night on Earth.

"(Y/N)..." Dean started, his forehead creased, reaching out to place a hand on your shoulder.

"Don't," you warned him. "Don't go on pity patrol for me, Dean." This was the part where he told you that he didn't feel the same way, that he was sorry, that he wished you'd never bothered making that crossroads deal for him.

"I'm not," Dean spoke. His emerald eyes searched yours, something you couldn't quite put your finger on swimming within them. "Why didn't you tell me?"

You sighed. "Because I didn't want you to know. I wanted to tell you so badly how I felt, but I couldn't handle the rejection. And the deal... Well, your role in this life is more important than mine. It always has been," you spoke honestly. "All I wanted was to spend the year with you, to watch you be happy. Then I figured that on my last night we'd all have some fun, I'd be with my friends, we'd have a few drinks... I'd forget for a while... Until the time came."

"Don't let me hear you talk like that," Dean growled, although his voice was a little strangled. "I have loved you since the day you started huntin' with us, (Y/F/N) (Y/L/N)."

Your eyes snapped up to meet his, your stomach somersaulting. "What?"

"You heard me. And now... I have to live without you..." Dean's voice trailed off, his eyes glassy with tears threatening to spill over.

"I'm so sorry, Dean," you sobbed, crashing into his chest, wrapping your arms around him tightly. "But I couldn't bear to live without you... It was the only way... It wasn't your time to go... I couldn't let you go..." you rambled, your voice muffled into the flannel of his plaid shirt.

Dean stroked your head soothingly, tears streaming down his face. "I really wish you hadn't of done that," he murmured with regret. "You don't deserve this."

"I do," you confirmed, looking up at him. He tenderly rubbed your cheek with his thumb, wiping your tears away. "I do deserve this. So I'm sorry. But there's nothing we can do. Sam tried. Believe me, he tried. We both did. But it's no good. This is the way it has to be."

Dean's face crumpled, his lower lip trembling, somehow blaming himself for all of this.

"It doesn't have to be that way, (Y/N)."

"Yes it does."

He watched you with defeat, feeling empty and void of any positivity.

"So please..." you started. "This is my last night on Earth. Let's make it a good one." You attempted a weak smile, but Dean couldn't bring himself to smile back. Not when he felt like this.

You wanted to spend your last night with Dean, you didn't care where you were, or what you were doing, you just wanted to be with him, in your final moments. You wanted to give Sam and Bobby a huge hug and tell them how much they meant to you, and how thankful you were that you knew them. You wanted to sit in the Impala for a while, relishing in the feel of the leather against your skin, the beautiful thrum of the engine filling your ears, along with classic rock blaring from the speakers. You wanted to beat Rufus at poker once more, to see him get real mad while you laughed and claimed your chips, before he would stalk off and find someone else to play. You wanted to gossip and joke with Ellen and Jo about how much of a good ass Sam had, and reminisce about the time you had found a Lovelace skin magazine in Bobby's desk drawer. Just one more time.

But more than anything, you wanted to finally feel Dean's touch in places he'd never reached, feel his breath against your ear, feel his soft, plump lips upon yours.

"Please... Stay with me, Dean," you begged him quietly, tracing a finger along his pectoral muscles through his shirt. "I don't wanna be alone tonight."

Dean tucked a stray strand of hair behind your ear, his face tear-stained. That was something you never thought you would see: Dean Winchester cry. "You don't have to be alone, (Y/N)," he promised, before ducking his head and pressing his lips to yours. The kiss was soft and tender, caring and... loving. You wanted it to last forever. You didn't want to die. You especially didn't want to go to Hell and become Crowley's pet. But you'd made your choice. And that kiss you shared with Dean proved that it was all so worth it.

You broke away reluctantly before taking Dean's hand and leading him to where the Impala was parked, her paintwork glimmering in the moonlight. You opened the door, which you learnt that Dean rarely locked, and climbed in the back seat waiting for Dean to join you, which he did.

This was where you wanted to be. This was your happy place. 

You asked Dean for the key, which he presented to you from his pocket. You leaned over the seat to put it in the ignition, switching on the radio so that you would have a pleasant background noise. Dean was too silent, too foreboding.

You felt your heart sink as one of your favourite songs, Hurt by Johnny Cash, started playing quietly through the speakers. It was only too familiar for you; the lyrics almost too relatable. 

You sunk back into the seat, Dean's arm outstretched and ready to wrap around you, holding you close to him. You snuggled into his embrace, breathing in the scent that was Dean; musk and leather and sandalwood, feeling his bicep muscles flex against your shoulders.

You looked back up at his face, half cast in darkness, the other illuminated by the glow of moonlight. You pressed your lips to his once more, your hand raking through his hair. This kiss was different. It was full of passion, full of need, full of hunger and desire. You'd dreamt of this moment for a long time. 

His arms snaked round your waist, pulling you flush against him, as your tongues fought for dominance. Heat coursed through you. You had wanted this so bad.

Things escalated. Before you knew it you were in Dean's lap, moaning into his mouth as you kissed, his large hands roaming your clothed body, his fingers trailing up your spine and over your ribs. 

Dean broke away from you, taking you by surprise. You watched him closely for a reaction.

"(Y/N)..." he started, cupping your face, wiping away the last remnants of your tears. "I really do love you, y'know."

You smiled genuinely for the first time in a long time. Hearing Dean say those words... It made everything feel like it was okay, even though deep down you knew it wasn't.

"And I love you, Dean Winchester."

He smiled back, but it wasn't real. You knew this because it didn't reach his eyes; they didn't light up and twinkle. But that was okay. You knew that he was speaking the truth. Dean wasn't the type of person to lie, especially about his feelings. Most of the time he hid them away. But there was no time for that now. You only had tonight.

You stroked his face, enjoying the rough texture of the stubble that cast the lower half against your fingertips. "Dean... Make love to me," you whispered, nuzzling the tip of your nose against his. 

Dean nodded slowly, his lips finding yours again, before laying you down on the back seat of the Impala, him on top of you. The way that he planted kisses down your neck, trailed his lips across your collarbone, dragged your leather jacket down your arms; everything was so tender, so slow, both of you cherishing this moment.

He never stopped kissing you, tasting your skin, as he took off your clothes and eventually removed his own. Once you were both naked, his eyes scanned your body, almost in marvel, as he drank in the sight of you, never wanting to forget it. Never wanting to forget the girl who sold her soul in exchange for his to be saved.

He hovered over you, positioned between your legs comfortably, planting chaste kisses up your neck to your lips. You couldn't help but smile into the kiss; you never thought that you'd be able to feel this happy on your last night on Earth.

Dean broke away to look into your eyes, resting on his elbows for a moment. He caressed your cheek affectionately. 

"Take me, Dean," you murmured, ghosting your fingers over the muscular ridges that defined his shoulders and upper back.

"I love you, (Y/N)," he repeated for the third time that night.

"I know," you replied, smiling at your Star Wars reference. It finally encouraged a genuine grin from Dean. "I love you too."

He buried his face in the crook of your neck as he slowly pushed into you. It took your breath away. He allowed you a few seconds to accommodate to his impressive size, before withdrawing and pushing into you again, grinding his hips against yours in such a way that the tip of his penis grazed so blissfully against your sweet spot.

"Oh... Dean..." you moaned as he took you nice and slow, tangling his fingers in your hair, gently nipping at your neck and collarbone once in a while.

Every now and then he would gaze into your eyes as he made love to you, keeping in rhythm with the slow guitar chords of the Johnny Cash song that eventually morphed into "Ready For Love" by Bad Company.

He caressed your face soothingly with his fingers and whispered sweet nothings in your ear, while your own hands roamed over his chest, over his shoulders. You'd never felt so loved, and you'd never felt so loving in return.

Everything was perfect.

All was well.

For now.

* * *

You paced Bobby's library the next day, wringing your hands in a nervous manner. The hounds would be coming soon.

The hallucinations had already started a few hours ago, distorting Dean's face, Sam's face, Bobby's face, into something so incredibly horrible it frightened the shit out of you. You knew you were just hallucinating, and fortunately they would come and go, not leaving you scared for too long. Dean would hug you afterwards, holding you close to him and stroking your hair, telling you that it would be okay. But of course it wouldn't.

Your head snapped up as you heard a guttural howl in the distance. Not long now.

Dean and Sam were busy trying to hound-proof the house to buy you a little more time, making salt lines against all the windows and doors, mixing a little Goofer dust that they'd somehow obtained within the salt line. Bobby had gotten hold of some Devil's Shoestring, which he hung by the doors. Your hunter's funeral was already planned.

Dean walked into the study area, followed by Sam and Bobby, smiling at you weakly. He'd tried his best. But it was no good. The hounds would still get in somehow, and the outcome would still be the same.

Bobby poured you a fifth of whiskey, before pouring more for himself and the boys. You sloshed the golden-amber liquid around the glass pensively.

Your reverie was interrupted by another howl. You looked out of the window worriedly, tears stinging at your eyes, before downing the alcohol.

You looked up at Dean sadly, a few feet in front of you.

"Dean... I need you to leave. When they come." His gaze bore into your own, before he shook his head adamantly.

"No. I'm not gonna leave you here," he replied with defiance. "No way."

"Dean, please," you breathed, trying to reason with him. "I don't want you to see." A tear rolled down your cheek slowly, encouraging Dean to walk up to you to wipe it away with a tender fingertip.

"I'm not leavin' you, baby," he spoke forcefully. "I want to be here with you."

You sighed in defeat. "No, Dean..." you pleaded. "I don't want you to be here... To witness them rip me to shreds..." You were beyond hysterical now, the fear inside eating away at you. You sobbed into Dean's chest, your hands clinging onto the material.

"Well I ain't leavin'," Dean insisted, his voice choked. He wrapped his arms around you tightly and protectively. "I don't want you to be alone."

You looked back up at Dean, you attention diverted as you heard another menacing growl. You were pretty sure that the boys heard that one too, as they all turned and looked at each other solemnly. A shiver went down your spine. They were getting closer now. Any minute now. Time to say goodbye. 

You backed away from Dean, turning your attention to Bobby. You enveloped him in a huge hug, telling him thank you for putting up with you and for everything over the past two years. You could've sworn he wiped a tear away as you turned away from him, to Sam.

Sam's forehead was creased, his eyes glassy. You knew that he felt guilty for not finding a way to help you.

"You always were the over-emotional one," you teased weakly, encouraging a chuckle from Sam. "Remember, this isn't your fault, Sam," you assured him. "I chose this."

He nodded, tears now spilling down his face. You fell into his embrace, him stooping down to give you a warm and soft brother-sister cuddle. "You've been like a brother to me. Thank you. And... Look after Dean for me. Don't let him blame himself," you added with a whisper, before placing a chaste kiss on his cheek.

Last but not least, you turned back to Dean. The man you loved, and would always love. Crowley may have had your soul, but Dean had your heart.

"I love you, Dean," you spoke softly, caressing his cheek a last time.

"I love you (Y/N). I wish it didn't have to be like this," he replied, his eyes red and his face tear-stained. Fresh tears were threatening to fall as he placed his hand on top of yours, holding your hand against his face. 

"Me too. But hey. Nothing I can do about it now," you smiled, despite your crying. "But truth be told... If I could go back and do it all again. I would. Because that's how much you mean to me. And that's how much I love you Dean Winchester."

Dean pulled you close to him, and placed a gentle kiss upon your forehead. You lifted your chin so that your lips could meet his in a final reunion of passion, never wanting the moment to end. The growls and hisses were getting closer. You could hear the hounds at Bobby's front door, barking wildly, making the floor vibrate.

It was time for you to go.

You reluctantly withdrew from Dean, taking a step away from him. His hand grabbed yours, not wanting to let you go. You laced your fingers within his a final time, before letting his hand fall. "It's time," you announced, your tone unintentionally ominous.

The hounds were becoming relentless. They had come to claim what was theirs. Or rather, what was their master's.

You took a few further steps back so that you were in the corner of the room, your eyes never leaving Dean's, his expression pained. It brought you pain to see him that way. But you stood by your choice to save him. 

"Break the salt line," you told Sam, who clearly didn't want to do as you'd asked. You looked at him in pleading. "Please, Sam."

He turned away, sobbing silently, as he moved the salt with his shoe. He looked back at you and nodded affirmatively.

You took a deep breath, knowing it was going to be one of your last. Then they were there.

Sniffing, growling, pawing at the ground impatiently. You could see them now, giant, spectral, black, demonic Pit Bulls, standing right in front of you. 

The largest one was closest to you, baring its teeth viciously. You knew that Sam, Dean and Bobby would be safe; they weren't there for them. They were there for you. You also knew that they couldn't see them, but they didn't have to. All they'd had to look at was the silent terror on your face as you stood still, waiting for them to pounce.

You closed your eyes, replaying your memories of the past year. Replaying every memory you had of Dean, as he stood metres away from you, unable to do anything to help you.

You played Hurt by Johnny Cash in your head; the soundtrack to what had been one of the best moments of your life.

 _I hurt myself today,_  
_To see if I still feel,_  
_I focus on the pain,_  
_The only thing that's real..._  
_The needle tears a hole,_  
_The old familiar sting,_  
_Try to kill it all away ,_  
_But I remember everything..._

 _What have I become?  
My sweetest friend,   
Everyone I know goes away,   
In the end_ _...  
_ _And you could have it all,  
_ _My empire of dirt,  
_ _I will let you down,  
_ _I will make you hurt..._

You were taken clean off your feet, landing on your back painfully on the hard floor, resisting the urge to open your eyes as the hounds were upon you. You could feel their breath on your face, their claws at your legs.

You could do nothing but scream out in agony as Dean, Sam and Bobby watched with tear filled eyes, with sadness and regret. You tried to focus your mind on Dean, telling yourself over and over that this was all for him. All for him.

Momentary darkness.

You came back round, opening your eyes at last, but your vision was blurred. The hounds weren't finished with you yet. You couldn't feel your legs. Maybe you'd already bled too much. Or maybe they'd torn your nerve endings out. 

The searing pain was in your chest and stomach now. You couldn't breathe.

You heart Dean roaring your name, his voice strangled. You heard Sam sobbing his heart out as he, presumably, held his brother back.

You found your way back to Johnny Cash. Your happy memory.

 _I wear this crown of thorns,_  
_Upon my liar's chair,_  
_Full of broken thoughts,_  
_I cannot repair..._  
_Beneath the stains of time,_  
_The feelings disappear,_  
_You are someone else,_  
_I am still right here..._

You were too weak to scream out any more. You wanted to give in so badly.

But you couldn't bring yourself to.

You could no longer feel your body. You weren't even sure you had one any more.

Dean...

Dean...

 _What have I become?_  
_My sweetest friend,_  
_Everyone I know goes away,_  
_In the end..._  
_And you could have it all,_  
_My empire of dirt,_  
_I will let you down,_  
_I will make you hurt..._  
  
_**If I could start again...**_  
_**A million miles away...**_  
_**I would keep myself...**_  
_**I would find a way...**_

Forest green twinkling eyes filled your mind, fading slowly... Slowly...

Getting dimmer...

The hounds were no longer there. You couldn't feel anything. See anything. Hear anything.

You were cast in darkness.


End file.
